


Red Velvets, Dark Chocolates

by bored_in_class



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dutch is crazy, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Short One Shot, What-If, angsty, but he has a plan, handjobs, just have some goddamn faith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 17:34:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17288405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bored_in_class/pseuds/bored_in_class
Summary: "I'm dying, Dutch."Arthur confronts Dutch about his recent recklessness and confesses his time is running short.





	Red Velvets, Dark Chocolates

**Author's Note:**

> pre-established past arthur/dutch. early chapter 6.

"Look what you've become," Arthur hisses, before a violent cough rips through him.

Dutch doesn't spare a glance back, ignoring the wheezing behind him. He steps inside his tent with Arthur right on his heels, feeling annoyed at being followed. "I don't want to hear it, Arthur."

"I must be the biggest sucker of all to fall for you." It's the wrong thing to say as Dutch abruptly stops and spins on his heel, his face absolutely livid.

"What are you implying, _boy?_ Why can't you understand? That everything I'm doing, _I'm doing it for us!_ " Dutch screeches the last bit, slowly advancing forward. "And you, Arthur? You look at me as if I'm crazy, _like I've lost my goddamn mind! Have some fucking faith!_ "

"And haven't you, Dutch?" Arthur fires back, "I ain't ever seen you kill in cold-blood 'til recently. How long before you strangle me to death like that old lady back in Guarma?"

Dutch's voice falls to a murmur, head slightly tilted, his eyes becoming more menacing as they narrow. Slowly, he shakes his head, daring Arthur to speak. "Don't test me, Arthur." 

Arthur only scoffs, rolling his eyes, "Shouldn't be long now 'til you put a bullet in my back." A pair of hands— _Dutch's hands_ —clasp around Arthur's neck, sending him into a frenzy. It's all worsened by the cough that racks his body at the wrong moment, the blood clogging his throat as he weakly struggles against Dutch's death grip. He flails his hands in a surrender, unsure if Dutch can understand him through the older man's enraged mind.

"I know you're enjoying this, Arthur. We've _fucked _plenty of times this way, haven't we?" Dutch chuckles. They both go careening onto the mattress with Dutch on top, watching as Arthur struggles below him, the younger man's arms grabbing at his for purchase. He loosens his grip when Arthur's movement begins to slack, his eyes widening when Arthur turn his head and spits out a mouthful of blood over the bedside, followed by another series of coughs.__

____

____

"What in the hell?"

Suddenly, everything becomes silent, only Arthur's pitiful attempts at a ragged breath registering in Dutch's ears. He stares at Arthur long and hard, his brows furrowing as Arthur hesitates to say something, the boy's mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish.

"Spit it out."

"I'm dying, Dutch."

It's a cold revelation that pricks Dutch's arms with gooseflesh, disbelief showing on his face. "Don't be ridiculous," Dutch says, but the smattering of blood on the floor combined with Arthur's pallor skin that only now he takes notice of is enough to make him think twice. He's lost for words, "How?"

"Met a doctor up in Saint-Denis after I collapsed in the street. It's bad, Dutch, and it ain't gettin' better." Arthur looks at him then, a sad look in his eyes before falling into another fit of coughs.

_He's not lying._

Dutch is speechless, unable to make heads or tails of it. It's nonsense to him, inconceivable that the world was so hellbent on seeing him snap. He lost Hosea only recently _and now Arthur ... now he's ..._

"That's ... that's just not ..." Dutch shakes his head, trailing off. "A plan, Arthur, I have a plan ... and I just need some ... some time is all. _Just give me a little time to fix this, I—_ " he stutters through his words, his brain going haywire. He can't think, _he can't fucking think_ , with the dozens of thoughts flying through his mind. And Hosea isn't here to help him deal with it rationally, he realizes, a pang of hurt shooting through his chest. His first thought is to flee, and he nearly does so before Arthur grabs onto his wrist.

"We can't keep on doing this, Dutch. No more noise."

"And?" Dutch questions, his voice sounding defeated. "What do you propose we do?" He gets off of Arthur, resigns himself to sitting on the edge of the bed. He pointedly looks away at the dried blood on the ground.

Arthur shifts around beside him, fighting another bout of coughs that each feel like a stab in the heart to Dutch. It's a painful reminder that he'll be somehow outliving his friend, _his partner._

"You ain't been yourself in a long time, Dutch, makes me wonder if I even knew you at all," Arthur says quietly, ignoring Dutch's question.

Dutch rubs at his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "Don't start on that. We need the money, how many times do I need to tell you?" He runs a hand through his hair, grimacing when a gray strand comes back in his palm. Dutch sighs, letting it fall away from his hand. He's getting old, his body weary and lacking some of the strength he had in his earlier years.

"You're stressed," Arthur points out and Dutch nods absentmindedly.

A hand slides up Dutch's arm all the way to the back of his shoulder. He jolts at the abrupt squeeze, glaring at the younger man.

"Let me help you, Dutch. If it ain't with the plans then let me help with this," Arthur says.

And Dutch should say no, he's pushed Arthur around enough and neglected him too much to be deserving of any sort of kindness from the man. His eyes travel to the dried blood on the floor, _and that right there is proof._ But he's selfish, and he knows that. Instead, all that comes out of his mouth is a groan of relief as he closes his eyes, Arthur's second hand coming to join in working out his back muscles.

It takes a moment to remove Dutch's waistcoat, the older man showing no resistance in allowing his arms to be pulled upwards. There's some shuffling and a second later Arthur is sat behind him. He lets Arthur's deft hands wrap around him as they begin to undo his button-up before shrugging the fabric cleanly off.

"Arthur," Dutch says through gritted teeth. The strong hands roaming his chest elicit a groan from him. They're slow in their movement, taking the time to trace over the contours of his muscles and pull at the tufts of hair. They find his nipples last, already sensitive to Arthur's fingers and Dutch throws his head back as they're tugged upon. 

"Arthur, I'm—"

"Hush, you need this." Arthur's hands retreat to Dutch's back, this time a set of elbows kneading away at the tension there. Dutch grabs ahold of his white bedsheets, mouth hanging slightly open from the pain and the pleasure. His fogged mind vaguely registers the hands wrapping around his middle again, dipping lower to unbuckle his belt. His breath quickens as he feels Arthur slowly peel away the metal strap from his waist before he hears its soft clank as it lands somewhere on the ground.

Dutch moans softly when a hand palms the head of his member through his jeans, feeling himself arch into Arthur's hand. He's gasping as Arthur continues to play with his hardening length, settling into lazy strokes that drive him mad. "Don't tease," he chokes out, embarrassed by how badly he's coming undone.

"Gladly," Arthur whispers into his ear, hands already reaching inside Dutch's pants and pulling down his briefs.

He takes a shuddering breath when Arthur's warm hands touch his length, one hand stroking him from the tip to the base and the other fondling his balls. The heat pooling in his stomach begins to grow, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead as he melts into Arthur's arms. " _Faster, Arthur_ ," Dutch's voice is needy, husky with the desire of his impending release.

The pace of the hand stroking him quickens and Dutch has to bite his tongue to keep from voicing his moans too loudly. He feels himself being dragged closer and closer to release, the white light within his grasp until Arthur yanks it away from him with a harsh squeeze, pausing long enough to keep Dutch suspended over the edge before continuing his strokes. It happens again, leaving Dutch begging, pleading the younger man's name to let him come.

Finally, Dutch feels himself explode, his vision almost blacking out from the pleasure. He releases into Arthur's hand, his voice coming out in strangled gasps and groans as he almost topples over, Arthur's free arm hooked underneath his shoulder as he's guided through his climax.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. _I'm so sorry_."

Dutch is sorry for a lot of things and none of them get past the tip of his tongue, his frustration mounting as he's unable to voice anything than those three words. The guilt and shame mixes in with his pleasure and leaves him shaking in Arthur's arms, a silent tear dripping down from his eye as he tries to bask in his afterglow.


End file.
